Paddling GlovesTom Watson reviews some general optionsfor protecting hands while out paddling:Simple neoprene, poggies, scuba gloves, etcQuick Tips for Canoe Camping TripsKevin Callan passes along some simple tricks he as learned over the years aboutcamping and paddling.. with videos too!

I've said it before, I know. Still, it's worth
repeating. The miniature
adventure is the escape clause in life's contract of obligations. It's
adventure on your terms, close to home and on the cheap. But it's real-life
adventure nonetheless. Every miniature adventure is a leap into the unknown,
with all that this involves. Guidebooks
only rarely offer guidance, and there's no outfitter to turn to for timely
reassurance or good advice. In short, you get no guarantees. To go adventuring
is to place your stake on the table and risk well what, exactly?
Disappointment, at the very least. And possibly more.

But that's no reason to give it up before you've tried it. After all, this
is one gamble where it's easy to beat the house. Last time, in "The Story
Continues," I outlined two principles in the creed of the weekend
adventurer. The first? Think Small. The second? Slow Down. There's just one
more: Be Prepared. Not very original, I admit. In fact, it's something of a
cliché. No matter. This hackneyed phrase still embodies an important
truth. When you travel off the tourist track, you're on your own. The success
of your adventure  sometimes even your survival
 rests on your shoulders. If you fail, or fall, there's no one
else to take up the load. That's a big responsibility, and it's not to
everyone's taste. But it can also be liberating. Nowhere is this more obvious
than when you're

At the Water's Edge

Of course, you didn't just drop out of the sky. Several weeks back, you
decided to take a short paddling holiday close to home. So you studied your maps
and prospected for a suitable waterway. In the end, you found just what you
were looking for. Now you're standing at the water's edge and wondering what
comes next. You notice that your heart is beating a little faster than normal,
and you try to decide whether it's excitement or apprehension. The answer? It's
probably a little of both. At least you're in good company. For thousands of
years folks have stood looking out across the Unknown, wondering what lay
ahead. Most of them have felt the same heady mixture of exhilaration and fear
that you're feeling right now. It makes sense. You're happily anticipating an
adventure, but you also know that you can't pass the buck if something goes
wrong. And you are about to head off into the Unknown. Close to home or
not, the pond or stream before you is one you've never paddled.

OK. You want to enjoy yourself, don't you? And you want to get back home in
time for Sunday dinner, with nothing more than sore muscles and a few mosquito
bites to complain about. Showing up at work on Monday rested and refreshed is
one hallmark of a successful miniature adventure. What's the secret? There
isn't any. Just apply the three principles I mentioned earlier, beginning
with

Think Small

You don't measure a miniature adventure by the number of miles you cover. It
isn't a race, and there's no floatplane to meet at the end of the trip. Your
weekend escape is a success if it enlarges your world and relaxes your mind and
body. Period. If you spend the whole time trying to coax a trout to strike in a
pool just two hundred yards from your put-in, that's just fine. You don't have
to apologize to anyone. You had a good time, and you got back safely. Nothing
else matters. In fact, the best way to ruin a miniature adventure is to try to
do too much or go too far, or burden yourself with a long and
difficult car shuttle at the end. That's why you might want to try an
"amphibious" trip, one that combines cycling
and paddling. With a folding bike and trailer and a
capacious inflatable,
you can even take your land transport right along with you on the water. Then
there's no need to return to your put-in at the end of trip. (There's also no
need to hide your bike and trailer from prying eyes  or worry about
whether or not you'll find it where you left it.)

If you're like most paddlers, though, you'll probably decide to drive your
car to the put-in. It's still best to end the trip back where you began it.
That's easy if your destination is a lake or pond, or even a chain of lakes
linked by short portages. But it's not so straightforward on moving water. The
solution? Begin your trip by traveling
upstream, then drift back down to your put-in. What could be simpler? No,
you won't cover as many miles as you would by going with the flow the whole
way. But so what? Mileage doesn't count on a miniature adventure. And there's
something else to consider. You're less likely to get in over your head if you
approach obstacles from downstream. It's pretty hard to get carried into a
sweeper when the current's pushing you the other way, for instance. Since
you're probably exploring without benefit of a guide (or a guidebook), that can
be important.

Does this sound too easy? Some people think so. In a world in which progress
is often equated with productivity  another word for doing more work in
less time  it can be difficult to break the habit. But your Christmas
bonus doesn't depend on how much water you put under your keel, does it? The
workaday world isn't called the rat race for nothing. When you take a weekend
off the job you probably don't want to speed up the treadmill. You want
to

Slow Down

Take time to inhale the fragrance of the balsam fir at the put-in. Once
you're on the water, play a big
eddy again and again till you've exhausted all its possibilities. Then give
your paddle a rest and listen to the call of a
distant loon. At days's end, watch the soft evening light dance on the
ripples till the red orb of the sun drops below the horizon. Later, just before
sleep claims you, look for the silver V of a beaver's
wake in the light of a full moon. Take all the time you need. It's
your time, after all. And time is your most precious possession. Spend
it wisely. Don't squander it rushing from place to place.

Slowing down also pays other dividends. You won't get into much trouble on
moving water if you scout each
drop carefully, no matter how easy it looks from your boat. And the slower
you go, the more you'll see. (That's Colin Fletcher's Law of Inverse
Appreciation again.) There are times when you have to push hard, of course, but
the miniature adventure usually isn't one of them. If you find yourself hurrying
to get to a campsite ahead of other boaters, you've probably picked the
wrong place to spend your weekend. Choose another place next time.

That brings us back to preparation and planning. And the most important rule
here is to

Most important of all, never forget that practice makes perfect. No matter
how many years you've been paddling, there's always something new to learn.
Each river, each stretch of seacoast, each beaver pond, has something to teach
you. Stay humble. Shun the temptations of
hubris. Remember, too, that the most dangerous hours of your life are
probably the hours you spend on the road. No experienced driver needs to be
told that, I'm sure, but it's easy to forget in the holiday excitement of the
trip to the put-in. I've had dozens of close calls on the highway for
each one I've had on the water. I'll bet that you have, as well. And amphibious
paddlers, boaters who cycle to the put-in, aren't immune. On the contrary. We
have to be especially careful. We're freed from the often stultifying confines
of our steel cages, to be sure  not to mention the joys of paying record prices for
gasoline  but this freedom comes at a price. Make a mistake behind
the wheel in traffic and you stand a good chance of walking away from the crash
unhurt. Make the same mistake while you're balanced on two wheels,
however, and the odds aren't in your favor. There are no airbags on a
bicycle. What can you do about this? Practice. Just as safety in a kayak or
canoe has much more to do with the skill of the paddler than the design of the
boat, bicycle
safety is largely determined by the abilities of the rider. It's a
challenge shared by both paddling and cycling. It's also their greatest reward.

That's it. We've gone from dreaming over a map to paddling across the water
into the Unknown. Call it an escape from the everyday in three easy steps.
Think small. Slow down. Be prepared. It couldn't be much simpler. You, too, can
get away from it all and still be back at work on Monday. The miniature
adventure is open to anyone with a boat and a dream. And that means you.